Broken Crown
by imhazelgrace
Summary: Turns out the Winchesters have a sister. But John said that Ella Winchester was dead. It seems that Crowley knows something about it, and they're determined to figure it out. When when the truth comes out, fights rage between the broken family.
1. Chapter 1

I walk into the little shop on the corner of town. As soon as I walk in, the sweet scent of cherry pie and coffee fills my nose. The scent surrounds me in a cloud, slowly guiding me to a seat right next to the dessert case. Kaylie, the waitress, quickly recognizes me and gleefully skips over.

"What'll it be today, honey?" she says, pulling the notebook from her apron pocket.

I glance over to the case filled with cakes and pies and point to the one in the middle labeled, 'Cherry'.

"That one, please." I say, licking my lips a little. I usually come in here at least once a week to get some sort of dessert. But, since pie is one of my all time favorites, I get it when possible with the little money I have.

"Alright!" Kaylie says, "Want coffee with that?" I shrug and nod my head, stuck in a state of why not?

After she walks away to take another order I pick up a dirty fork sitting on a plate next to me. I start tapping, because it is something to keep me occupied.

I have been coming to this little shop for two years now, right after I moved here. I don't really talk to many people, since I am kinda bad at making conversation. That's one of the reasons why I moved to a smaller town like this.

Potter County, Pennsylvania, a small town with nothing much to offer. All it has to offer is its god- awful winters, and that's not exactly what I'd call a 'plus' to living here. It's quiet though, and I have always felt safer in smaller towns. Nothing bad happens, and about the only crime here is an occasional drunk driver.

Everyone knows everyone, I guess. That's how I know Kaylie; she was one of the people to make me feel at home here.

"Here you go, Ella." Kaylie says, plopping a pie of delicious looking pie and cup of coffee in front of me.

"Thank you, Kay." I smile back at her, and she turns back to the costumers sitting next to me.

I grab the fork off the plate and look at the pie. It has a golden-brown crispy crust, and I could see bits of dough flaking off. Red oozed from the sides, and I can see bits of the cherries peeking out from the sides. I could faintly hear my stomach growling from beneath me. I haven't eaten yet today, so I can understand why it is making dying noises. I plunge my fork into the pie and shove a big clump in my mouth. The sweet taste of cherries fills my mouth. The crust almost dissolves on contact with my tongue.

Once the initial amazingness of the pie wears off, I continue eating and sipping my coffee slowly.

I hear faint whispers coming from the men sitting next to me. At first they were very hush-hush about their conversation, but it seems that they stopped talking about whatever important thing it was.

"Come on Dean, leave the poor girl alone."

"Come on Sam, she likes pie, I like pie, what could go wrong?"

"Dean…"

Then I feel a slight nudge to my right shoulder. I slowly look over to the men I were just eavesdropping on. The one who tapped my shoulder had a goofy smile plastered to his face. His bright, green eyes crinkle around the edges, and his dimples are deep and defined. He has short, almost brown hair that is slightly messy, sticking up slightly around the edges of his head.

The other man is sitting there, with a sort of 'Oh no, not this again' look on his face. He has long, almost shoulder length brown hair that flickers off around the bottom. He grabs his cup of coffee and quietly sips it again.

"Umm, yes?" I question.

He glances over at the pie that still remains on my plate. He points at it before saying, "Is that any good?"

I contort my face into a state of confusion. Why does this guy look familiar to me? I know he doesn't live here, or I would've seen him before. Like I said, in a town this small everyone knows everyone. So where do I know this guy?

I realize what he just asked me and reply, "Oh umm, yeah, its good. It always is, really," I smile at him, "Why do you wanna know? First time in town?"

Good Ella, make conversation. You are _totally _good at it.

"Oh, I'm uh…taking a road trip with my brother here, Sam," he says, quickly gesturing to the man sitting next to him, "I'm Dean, by the way, who are you?"

"Oh, my name is Ella. Ella Winchester. Nice to meet you." I reply, smiling and holding out my hand for him to shake.

Dean's eyes widen, and the smile slowly sinks from his face. He frantically looks to Sam, who also seems very unhappy with my response. They both look back to me, their eyes locked to my eyes, their faces completely slack, showing no emotion.

"What?" I say.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam and Dean stand up quickly and grab both my arms. They mumble something to the waitress standing next to us and practically drag me out of my seat.

"What the hell?!" I shout as they pull me out of the door. I try to kick and loosen their grip on me, but it doesn't work. What are these two going to do to me? They continue pulling me around until we reach an alley, with a black car parked in the middle.

Oh my god, they're kidnapping me, aren't they? I'm gonna die. I start panicking as they finally let go of me. I lean up against the car, which looks like a Chevy Impala. I pull my arms against myself, hoping they won't see my hands shaking. I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am **not** afraid. I can't let them see how scared I am. If they see, they might think I am too weak and take advantage of me.

Dean paces back and forth, with his arms almost wrapped around his head. I see his lips moving, like he is having a conversation with himself. Sam stands near the opening of the alley, most likely as a guard so I don't run off.

Okay, Ella, think. **Think. **You are smarter than them. These are two grown men, maybe in their 20-30's. From what I can tell, just from how tight their grips were when they were holding my arms, that they are experienced with capturing things. Dean is distracted with whatever he is thinking about.

So, I only have Sam to deal with. He has his eyes locked on me, which may be a problem. He is also very tall, maybe 6', maybe more. I may be able to use to my advantage. I am only about 5'2", and I am petite for someone of my age. I shoot my eyes around to the opening next to Sam.

It's big enough for me to fit through.

All right, Ella, on three, sprint to that opening.

1

2

**_3_**

I quickly push myself off of the Impala and sprint past Sam. He snaps his head around, and just misses grabbing my back leg. I glance back and see Sam has stumbled on his own feet. He pushes himself up and takes off towards me.

I flick my head back forwards, and see that there is a rather large dumpster right in front of me. I swerve, and trip on the edge. I grunt and jump back up on my feet. I stumble a few steps before I start running again. I hear two sets of footsteps coming up behind me.

I am not getting kidnapped today.

I continue running, my lungs slightly burning. I just hope being on my high school track team doesn't let me down now. Just as I am about to reach the opening of the alley, someone kicks my feet out from beneath me.

I fall, my head slamming off of the ground. I land on my stomach, luckily. I try reaching for something to pull myself up. My head starts ringing when I pick it up off the ground, and the world starts to blur around me.

"Fuck, Sam! Look at her now!" I hear a gruff voice from behind me shout, and I can only assume it's Dean. I feel a hand on my back just before black surrounds my eyes.

* * *

_"God Sam, we're fucked." _

_"Really Dean? I would've never guessed. I thought Ella was dead! I mean, the last time dad mentioned her, he made sure as hell that we knew she died. Now…"_

_"Shut up, Sam. It doesn't matter what dad said now, does it?"_

* * *

I try to open my eyes, but everything is still slightly blurry. I blink a few times, but it doesn't seem to help. I can see lights rushing past the windows. I feel leather beneath me. These idiots must've taken me with them in their stupid Impala. I grunt, trying to sit up, but I head feels like it weighs 8 tons.

"She's awake." I barely hear Sam whisper. Dean grunts in response. I turn my head, trying to shake off this headache, but it only makes it worse. There is an intense ringing in my ears, and I still can't see shit.

God Ella, you can't even manage to run for more that 10 seconds. I shift my eyes to Sam, and I can see the dim outline of his wide shoulders. He reaches back and tries to grab my arm, but I push his hand away.

"Don't…don't touch me…you…you monster." I barley spit out at him. I try again to lift my head, but I strain myself too much and pass out again.

Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

I jerk awake in a dim, almost pitch black room. My vision has finally returned to almost normal. I rub both my eyes and blink a few times for good measure. I slowly sit up, careful not to over-exert myself like last time. I am sitting on a small, rickety old bed in the middle of a square room. There is a light hanging from the ceiling above me, but it is off. There is a string hanging off of it, so I pull it.

The light clicks on, and I see a bunch of satanic looking symbols plastered to the walls and floors. I shoot my head from wall to wall, and each and every one of them is covered in symbols. I look on the ground beneath the bed and I see it is sitting in the middle of a giant pentagram with scribbles on it.

I warily kick my feet over the edge and put my feet on the ground. I grunt as I push myself up, my head still ringing. I grab the head of the bed to steady myself and put the other hand to my forehead. I feel a large bump on the right side.

"Dammit." I mumble to myself. I slowly walk over to a part of the room where it seems like the wall might open. This particular part of the wall seems to be made of books, like I am on the backside of a massive shelf. I kneel down and look under the bottom of the wall. I see a dim light on the other side.

Okay, this is a good sign. This must be the door. It's probably locked or something. I can't run away again, because god knows where I am. I won't know how to get out. I warily stand back up again and hobble back over to the bed. I slink back onto it, sigh heavily.

Why did this have to happen to me? I moved away from cities specifically so something like this _wouldn't _happen. I run my hand through my short, soft hair.

And then I start crying. I just loose control for a minute. My sobs become the only noise in this strange room. I slam my palms into the edges of the bed, trying to control myself. I haven't cried like this in years. I usually find crying off-putting, so I just don't cry often. I am just scared I might die.

Suddenly I hear an awful creaking noise coming from the bookshelf-wall I found. The wall slides outward and my kidnappers, Sam and Dean, walk in. I quickly jet my head down so I am looking at the floor. I stifle my sobs so they won't hear. I can't show weakness. I just can't.

I slowly loosen my grip on the edge of the bed and wipe the tears that are left on my face. I sniffle a little before finally looking up at Sam and Dean. They both stand right in front of the door, arms crossed. Dean's face is completely emotionless, like a statue. I can't tell what he's thinking, but I am sure he isn't happy with my presence.

I look over at Sam. His face is almost emotionless, but his eyes show different. He looks at me with a certain…sympathy, as if he is sorry for me or something. I break eye contact with Sam and stare at the opening between Sam and Dean.

"What do you want?" I mumble under my breath. Sam glances over to Dean before speaking.

"Listen, we aren't here to hurt you, alright?" he slowly approaches me and kneels down a foot or two away from the bed, "We're just…confused. Just like you probably are." His voice is very soft. I wasn't expecting that voice to come out of a man his size.

"Yeah, we are wondering how you can exist." Dean says from behind Sam.

I push my eyebrows together. What does he mean by 'how can I exist'?

"Well, I was born, and I haven't died yet so…" I reply, my voice faltering off at the end.

"But you see," Dean starts, gesturing toward me, "Last time we heard about you, you were _supposed _to be dead."

"Yeah," Sam picks up, "We even looked up your name. You're public record says that you died when you were 5. You got hit by a car."

I look back at the ground. These guys have to be crazy.

"Listen here asshat, my name is Ella Grace Winchester. I am 23 years old. I never really knew my father, and my mom died when I was 4. And, surprisingly enough, I am not dead. Now who are you? And where the hell am I?" I say, my voice getting progressively stronger. I refuse to get stomped on like I am two years old.

Sam and Dean exchange glances at each other before Dean nods.

"You are going to think we are nuts, but where your brothers. Sam and Dean Winchester. I am surprised John never told you about us." Sam states, as if this is a perfectly okay thing.

I look back up at Dean. His face looks slightly less tense now, but he still looks very unhappy. I exchange my glance to Sam. His big eyes burn into me, like he can see every mistake I have ever made.

I guess that does make some sort of sense. I knew that I recognized Dean from somewhere. When I was 4, a few days after my birthday John stopped by my house and visited me for an hour or two. He gave me a picture and said, "Listen here kiddo. These are your big brothers. Maybe one day you'll meet them."

My memory of that day fades away after that point.

Come to think of it, that was the day my mom died too.

Huh.


	4. Chapter 4

I snap back into reality and realize that they are waiting a response. I slowly nod, because I believe them. I mean, heck, I even look like them. I have a more delicate facial structure than Sam, but our faces do look slightly similar. I look almost nothing like Dean, surprisingly.

"So you believe us?" Dean asks in a rough voice. I shrug my shoulders. I don't see a reason not too. I don't understand why they seem so surprised.

Sam slowly stands up again and walks over to where Dean has been standing for the past few minutes. I hear slight whispers coming from them before Sam turns to me.

"Alright Ella, we are going to let you out of this room. But…umm..." He says, fading out while Dean picks up.

"But know that we don't exactly trust you. I mean, you're supposed to be dead. We don't know what to think.

And also, don't try to run away again. You are as safe as you can be here." Dean finishes with a quick smile. He turns and mumbles something to Sam before he walks away.

Sam turns back to me. "Huh, sorry about Dean. He is a little less…trusting than me," he laughs a little, "Com'on I'll show you to the bathroom. You need to get cleaned up. That bump doesn't look to good either." He motions towards the door.

I slowly get up, trying to make sure I don't pass out again. I need water, or something. I may have a concussion. Wouldn't be the first time.

Sam leads me out of the room and up through what seems to be a never-ending journey to the main room of the "bunker". He explains on the way up that this place used to belong to 'Men of Letters'. He won't tell me what the Men of Letters exactly did, but he said that this place is virtually impossible to break into, so I shouldn't worry about whether I am safe or not.

Now, see, Dean is hard to read but Sam, Sam I can read like a book. His face is like a painting.…how do I put this? Whenever an artist is sad, and they paint, that painting reflects how they feel, right? That's Sam. His facial expressions always perfectly reflect his emotions. Like I said before, when Sam first came into the room with Dean, he looked at me with a certain type of sympathy. Dean's face, on the other hand, always kind of registers as anger. It's much harder to piece together.

Now, I am saying this because I can tell that Sam is keeping something from me. If he wasn't lying, he would've told me what these Men of Letters did. I am interested, of course, but I am not going to push my luck. I just got here and I am supposed to be dead, apparently, so I'm just going to sit back and try to relax.

We finally arrive to the main room. It has a large, long table in the middle. On all sides of the rectangular room there are books. I look past the opening at the far end of the room and see a giant staircase leading up to what I assume is the door out of here.

Sam leads me out of the main room, through a messy kitchen, and past five or six other doors, which I assume are the bedrooms. As we pass, he opens each door and glances inside quickly. We finally arrive at the end of the hallway, and Sam opens the door on the right. We both slowly walk in.

"Here we go…umm just go to the room at the other end of the hallway, on the left when you are done taking a shower." He says quietly as he shuts the door behind him.

I let out a breath that I felt like I had been holding for ages. It comes out in a large, obnoxious sigh. I am glad I can finally be alone, and not in a super creepy-dungeon room.

I let out another smaller sigh before walking over to the mirror to the left of me. I stare at my reflection for a few minutes. I look almost the same as I did whenever I left my house to go get my pie, just slightly dirtier. My short, brunette hair is tousled in all directions. I love having short; pixie cut hair though, because I don't have to do much with it.

I lean in closer to examine my face closer. There is a large red bump on the right side of my forehead, from where I fell. My blue eyes are slightly red, most likely because of me crying earlier.

That's one aspect where I don't look like my brothers. Same hair color, but Dean has green eyes, from what I can tell, and Sam's eyes are a green-blue. My eyes are a very light blue, with almost a snowy glow to them. Around the edges, it is a ring of slightly darker blue. I guess I get my eyes from my mother. I can't really remember what she looked like, but it seems like the only explanation here.

I grab my cheeks and pull down before sighing again. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Sighing. I pull off my skinny jeans and tank top before taking a hot shower.

It is very refreshing.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Thank you for reading! I am going to attempt to post at least 1-2 chapters a week, but excuse any breaks because ya know, writing is difficult sometimes. Also, these few chapters aren't action packed, its just the basics and such.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

After I finish, I grab the black towel hanging on the wall. I dry off my hair quickly and wrap the tuck the towel around my body. I kick my clothes that are still lying on the floor over in the corner before warily opening the bathroom door.

I figure that since Sam said go to the room on the end that there will be clean clothes that I can put on in there. It makes sense.

My feet feel frigid against the tile in the hall. I sort of skip-run to the room. I grab my towel tightly so it won't fall down around my ankles when I arrive. I get there, and I turn the knob to slowly open the door. I walk in, the only noise being the creaking of the door. I shut it behind me and flip the light switch.

I see a neatly folded pile of clothes sitting on the bed. I walk over to the bed, and I see that there is a small note sitting on top of the clothes. I tuck in my towel tighter around my body and pick up the note. I unfold it, and I see that there is something scrawled in pen, in terrible handwriting. It reads:

_Ella, I wasn't sure what to get you to wear, so I dug around and found you some stuff. I couldn't find you a shirt, so I just gave you one of my old plaid shirts. (It is going to be REALLY big) The jeans might be big too…everything else should fit though._

_ -Sam_

_P.S this is my room, but you are welcome to sleep here tonight. I know you must be tired, and your head probably hurts. I'll be fine._

I fold the note back up and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. I smile to myself a little before quickly getting dressed.

The red, plaid shirt that Sam gave me almost goes to my knees, and makes me look like the tiniest human being alive. I have to roll up the sleeves multiple times before I can see my hands. The blue jeans are slightly baggy around my waist, and they are extremely long on me, bunching up around my ankles. This is the problem with being as short as me.

I glance around the room. It honestly doesn't look like anyone had been in here in a while, except for the bed. The bed and nightstands are the only things that aren't as dusty as the rest of the room. There is a large, burgundy desk on the far side of the room, and there are piles of papers and boxes lining the top. It looks as if it hasn't been touched in years.

I shift my glance between the bed, and the desk. Should I go to bed? Or should I investigate?

…

…

Eh, sleeping can wait.

I walk over to the desk and carefully take a box off the top of the pile. I swiftly take it and put it over on the bed, only knocking a few papers off the pile in the process. I sit down, facing the box, crisscrossing my legs over each other to get in a comfortable position. I pull open the box, making dust fly everywhere. I wave my hand in the air and cough a few times before reaching in. I grab a handful of papers and spreading them out in front of me.

I look them over. These papers are some of the records of the people the used to live and work here.

Name: James Grason. Age: 29. Position: Sniper/Spy. Cause of death: Demon.

Wait, these must be the death records.

Name: William Rosel. Age: 25. Position: Outfield work. Cause of Death: Demon.

Name after name, death records of people killed by…demons?  
I look over the titles at the top of the papers. Each paper is sectioned off. Pages of people that were killed by Demons, then Wendigos, Witches, ghosts, the lists go on and on.

Are these people nuts? What the hell is a Wendigo? I dig back into the box, hoping to find some information or something to explain what I am reading. I rustle through the box until I find a paper with large, fancy letters reading: **_THE MEN OF LETTERS._**

Okay, I'm getting somewhere now.

_The Men of Letters help protect the public from monsters, and beasts alike. We dispose of them, to keep our family and other families from the things hiding in the dark._

That's basically the summary of the entire page, just a little more sugar coated and professional. It's saying that this place was a safe house for this organization that kills monsters like Werewolves, Demons you name it. It's all here, in this box of old shit.

I'm too tired to be focusing on this.

I just need to sleep.

I collect all the papers that I spread out on my bed and shove them back into the box. I set the box onto the ground next to the bed. I stood up, and flicked off the light. I felt my way back over to the bed and unraveled the covers, shimmying underneath them. I sniffed in the scent of someone, I'm assuming Sam, and quickly fell asleep.

I hope I'm not going crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N The chapters should be about this long from now on. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

I wake up to the sound of thumping coming from outside my door. When I open my eyes, I forget where I am. For a moment, thought that I was back and safe in my apartment. A loud crash sends me back to reality, and I quickly jump out of bed to see what it is. I walk over to the door, my bare feet cold against the hard cement floor. I carefully lean my ear against the door, hoping to hear what is going on before I jump to conclusions.

_"Dean, DEAN…please calm down. You're going to wake Ella up."_

_"I doN'T CARE SAM!"_

_"Dean…"_

_"JESUS CHRIST SAM, DON'T DO THAT. YOU SAID WE CANT BE BROTHERS. SO WE AREN'T. JUST…Kevin…Garth. And now Ella. I…"_

_"I know."_

_"I don't know what to do Sammy."_

I decide to open my door and walk in there to interrupt their conversation. Along with finding out I have brothers, I don't also need them constantly bickering over where I belong, or whatever else.

I walk up to the opening to the 'main' room, making sure I can't be seen, and I see the full extent of the crashing I heard earlier. Someone had pushed almost all the neat stacks of papers off of the long table in the center of the room, and there were multiple chairs lying on their sides surrounding Dean. There is a shattered beer bottle that had been thrown against the wall a few feet away from where Sam is standing.

Sam is standing on the right side of the table, while Dean is on the opposite. Dean is hunched over, and I see blood oozing out of the palm of his hand. His shoulders are shaking, and it seems like he had been, or still is, crying. Sam leans on his side of the table, but his shoulders aren't hunched over. The only reason he is leaning is so he can be at eye level with Dean.

I step out from behind the wall and clear my throat to announce myself. Sam's head jolts up, like he was expecting a monster to attack him. He breathes out a sigh (of what I assume is relief) when he sees me relief before motioning for me to come in. He smiles slightly before returning his glance to Dean. Dean is still hunched over, staring at the table as if it is the only thing in the room.

I carefully walk over to Sam, being sure I don't step on any broken glass that is scattered around him. Sam puts his hand out to the side to stop me before I get right smack next to him. He doesn't ever break his eyes off of Dean.

"Dean?" he whispers in the soft tone he spoke to me in when they announced themselves the first time. It's weird to think that all of that happened in almost two days. I discovered I have brothers, and that I am supposed to be dead.

I'd say they have been productive days, but I don't know if this exactly 'qualifies.'

Dean slowly lifts his head so it is almost all the way up, but he only lifts it so it is barely facing Sam.

"Can I talk to Ella alone, please?" he mutters, as if he wants to have a conversation with the table rather than his brother.

Sam finally takes his eyes off of Dean and glances at me. He nods, and pats my shoulder before walking in the direction of the room I slept in last night. I put my hands behind my back, fumbling them around. I rub my left leg with my right foot. I bite my lips.

Basically I do **_every _**conceivable nervous movement before Dean finally speaks.

"Please, take a seat." He says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat before he lifts up his bloody hand and gestures to the chair lying on its side on the floor next to me. I look back at the table and see a red pocketknife lying where Dean bloody hand was seconds ago.

_Oh. _

I fumble around getting the wooden chair up off the ground. I clunk it in front of the table before cautiously sitting down. Dean does the same. We are both facing each other directly, but I just can't seem to look into his green eyes. It feels me with guilt when I do, as if I should be _sorry _for existing. I divert my attention to his hands instead. He takes the bloody pocketknife off of the table, folds it up, and shoves it into his jeans pocket before neatly folding both hands together in front of him.

I continue staring at his hands.

"Hey, my eyes are up here you know." He says, laughing slightly to himself. I try to slowly lift my eyes from his hands. I trail up his body before I lock eye contact with him. His eyes are a deep, dark, green, but they are still watery from crying.

"There we are," he says, again giggling to himself, "You got pretty eyes. Are they your moms?"

I take a large gulp, even though my mouth is almost completely dry.

What is wrong with you Ella? He's your brother, why the hell are you so afraid of him? I suppose the reason why I feel safer around Sam is his face is a lot softer. When I look at Dean, all I can see is all of this pent up emotion and rage against himself and others. I'm a very empathetic person, so being around someone like Dean makes me extremely uneasy.

_That's_ why I can't look him in the eyes.

I nod my head warily in response to Deans question. The slight smirk fades from his face when he realizes that I don't want to be here right now.

"Listen, Ella, I am not here to hurt you. I am sorry that I am scary to you or whatever. I just want to talk to you a little." He says, trying to pick up the conversation.

I try to un-tense all of the muscles in my body before replying in a relaxing tone.

"Well, I have a few questions, if you don't mind answering them." I say in a firm tone. Good, I don't sound like a 5 year old for once.

"Okay, shoot." He relaxes in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

"So, Sam let me sleep in his room last night. I saw all of those boxes piled on the one side of his room, and being the curious idiot I am I looking in one of them. Sam mentioned the Men of letters or whatever, and I read these Death records. It said these people were killed by freaking Wendigos or Demons or some shit," I pause and take a breath, "And I would like and explanation please."

I sit back and cross my arms just like Dean.

Aww yeah, who's the head bitch now Ella.

Dean's face contorts into several different positions before he finds the right words.

"Well…uh. Along with us being your brothers, we..umm, hunt monsters. We protect people from shit that wants to eat their faces off, basically." He says, stumbling over his own tongue.

I look up to the ceiling and let out a long, exasperated sigh. What is going to come after this? Sam is secretly a 5 time Olympic medalist and Dean takes up being a drag queen in his spare time? Okay, them being my brothers I believe. Because I have proof. John told me about Sam and Dean. But I know for a fact he didn't say anything about hunting freaking monsters.

"I'm guessing that John never told you about that, did he?" Dean says, also sighing at the end of the statement.

I grunt in response, jetting my eyes from ceiling tile to ceiling tile.

"That bad, huh?" He says. I close my eyes before moving my head back so I am staring into Dean's eyes again. I set my hands onto the table.

"Alright, Dean, I am going to believe you for now. But you gotta give me some proof or something. I can't just go like that," I pause and snap, "and automatically believe that there are things lurking in the shadows."

Dean sort of frowns and shrugs before saying, "Seems reasonable, I guess."

"But one more thing, Dean." I lean in closer to him, intertwining my hands together.

"Yeah?" he replies, leaning in just as I did.

"What's with you and Sam?"

Dean face falls flat and his eyes get stuck in a blank stare.

"Did I ever tell you how pretty your eyes are?" he says, his voice breaking.


	7. Chapter 7

"DEAN! Can you please explain what the hell just happened?" I shout to him. He only presses that gas pedal on the Impala harder. His face is tense, his bottom lip almost jetting out. I can't see much else from where I am sitting in the back seat, because shadows keep passing too quickly over his face.

"I _asked _you a question." I repeat. I clench my hands around the bottom of my legs, keeping my stare on the back of Dean's head.

He glances to the left and the right before ramming the steering wheel to right, throwing Sam and I against inside of the doors. After we are off the main road, he slams on the brakes, this time throwing me against the back of Sam's seat. As soon as we come to a complete stop, Dean pulls out the key and practically jumps out of the car.

I un-glue myself from the back of the seat before jumping out of the car, Sam following suit. Dean leans against the hood of the Impala, his hands resting on the dewy surface. Sam stands next to me, his arms resting by his sides.

"So, are we going to get to speaking about what happened or are we going to have an old fashioned family breakdown?" I say, wearing a sarcastic smile to prove a point.

Dean picks up his hands off the hood and walks over to where Sam and I are standing. He walks up until he is about a foot or two away from me. I look up at him, my height being a large disadvantage in this type of situation.

"Ella, those things that were talking to us? That dudes neighbor, that 'nice lady,' that was a demon. Here," he says, taking the fake I.D badge he used to get into the scene of the crime he was showing me, "My last name on this badge is Christo. It's the name of Christ in Latin. Demons flinch at the name of Christ, and that bastard did. I said, 'My name is Steve Christo, FBI.' And she _flinched_."

Sam and Dean decided that since I didn't believe that they hunted monsters, they would take me on a small 'case' of theirs to prove that there are monsters. I was up for it, mainly because staying in the bunker was boring as dog shit. We got there, dressed up as FBI agents, which I really didn't like because we were straight up lying to officials. I usually don't mess with authority, because I don't get out much.

Anyway, there was a murder that seemed suspicious. This guy was at home one night, goes outside to do something, ends up having his heart ripped clean out. We had to look at the body of this poor guy and everything. Sam and Dean both agreed that this was something that a werewolf did, which seemed entirely ridiculous to me.

To make sure of their theory, Dean said he wanted to question on of the neighbors of this guy to see what she heard, or saw happen.

We all walked up to the door of this nice old ladies house, and we all pulled out our FBI badges like we were supposed too. Everything seemed a-okay until Dean just blurted out, "I'm sorry, but me and my partners really need to be going."

And that leads up to now.

"Dean. We have dealt with Demons more times that I can count. So why on earth did we run away? We could've stabbed her, and boom, done. Why are we here?" Sam asks, his tone highly sarcastic.

Dean shakes his head, jetting his eyes up and down my body.

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest.

Dean takes a large breath, "I ran away because of her," he says, gesturing towards me, "I don't want her to get hurt, so I kinda panicked."

Sam turns away from Dean and I, walking to the trunk of the Impala. He leans on the back, because I can see the car move slightly because of his weight. Dean continues to stare at me blankly, as if nothing is there in his head.

"Um…guys…" I hear Sam says from behind me. I swing my head around to see 2 semi-trucks speeding up the deserted road.

"Maybe they're just…in a hurry?" I jokily say, trying to play off how scared I am.

"I don't think they're allowed to go that fast." Sam replies, his voice very distant.

"GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!" I hear Dean shout angrily as he swings open that creaky door of the drivers seat.

We all jump into that car and quickly speed off, spinning in the mud. Dean keeps his eyes locked onto the road, his face showing nothing but pure anger. I keep my body turned around, trying to focus on the trucks that are catching up to us. The drivers look just as determined as Dean is.

Oh my god, they're going to kill us. I'm going to die.

I flip my body back around and latch onto the back of Dean's seat.

"Can this thing go any faster?!" I shout into his ear.

"I'm giving it all she got, now shut the hell up!" he says, momentarily letting his gaze off of the road. I sigh in frustration and turn back around.

I see the trucks slowing down, as if whatever is controlling it left them alone. I jet my attention over to the open window behind Dean, just as I see a cloud of black smoke fill the space around my head.

And that's the last thing I remember.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N this chapter is written from third person for a short while :3**

* * *

"ELLA!" Dean shouts as a trail of black smoke goes into her petite body. He bangs his hand on the steering wheel while cursing under his breath.

Sam turns around and looks out of the back window of the Impala to check if the trucks had stopped following them. He sees no sign of the trucks ever being there, only an empty darkness. He looks down to Ella's unconscious body lying in the back seat.

"Dean," he says, shaking Dean's shoulder roughly, "stop the car."

Dean quickly swerves the car into a patch of mud on the side of the lonely road. He grabs the keys out of the ignition and turns to Ella in the back seat. She lies there, taking shallow breaths. Sam and Dean look at each other before nodding and rushing out of the car. They open the back trunk, taking out a knife, holy water, and salt.

They finally look up from the trunk when they hear the squeak of the backseat door opening. They stand up straight with their supplies hidden in their various pockets, and slam the trunk shut.

"Oh god, look at me. I'm a Winchester." Ella says, her voice filled with sarcasm. She stands there touching and feeling every inch of her body, squishing the cheeks of her face together.

"You think this suits me?" she gestures, striking a ridiculous pose.

"And which bastard are you?" Dean says, stepping out from the back of the Impala.

"Well, I'm new, I'll give you that much," She replies, relaxing her body before taking a few steps away from Dean, "And before you think of attacking me, remember that I have your sister. And I can do _anything _I want to her pretty little face." Ella slips her hands over that curves of her body.

"I **_said _**who are you?" Dean repeats, his tone harsh and sharp.

"My names Allocen. I am a fallen angel, well. Now I'm a duke of hell. Lets just say my interests changed." Ella says, spreading her face into a goofy smile.

Dean takes large sigh. He knows that his sister being possessed by a duke of hell is an extremely bad thing. As he is standing there, Sam runs up from behind him, throwing holy water at Ella.

She screams in agony, her skin sizzling. She stumbles around, one of her shoes getting stuck in the mud beneath her. She shoots her glance back over to where Sam and Dean are standing, her eyes pitch black, and her face contorted into pure anger.

"You are going to regret that, Sam!" she says before she starts cackling like a maniac, "Like I said, I get to have this little body all to myself."

Just as Dean lunges to stab her, she poofs away, leaving nothing except her shoe stuck in the mud.

"NO!" Sam shouts. He charges at the Impala, kicking the tire multiple times with all of his weight.

"Dammit dammit dammit…" Sam mutters under his breath, gritting his teeth together with a seething rage. He leans down over the car, with all of his weight onto his elbows. He lets his head hang, his hair flopping over his face. He can't believe he let this happen to his sister. His little sister. Now he doesn't know where she is, what they are going to do to her, and he knows that there isn't a thing that he can do to stop it. His shoulders shake with anger, or sadness. He isn't sure which one it is. Both emotions are bubbling up inside of him. He bangs his fists into the Impala.

Dean stands there, his feet planted in the ground. He makes no noise, except for his shallow breaths in the cool autumn night. He releases his grip on the knife, letting it sink into the mud. His eyes are stuck onto the place where Ella stood seconds before. Thoughts are running through his head, but he can't seem to bring himself to react to anything. He feels numb, as if the world has collapsed and he had to be the one to fix it.

After a few moments, Sam finally collects himself and stands straight up, as if nothing happened. He wipes his face of any tears that were there, retracting his face to show nothing. Not anger, not sadness. He walks over to Dean, picks the knife up, and gets back into the Impala. He slips the knife in between the door and the seat, for easy access.

Dean slowly tries to un-plant his feet from the ground. He follows, his steps heavy, as if his feet were made of cement. His eyes are still stuck in a blank gaze, as if his brain can't comprehend what just happened. His eyes stay in that gaze for the rest of the night. His eyes are dead. That night, Dean doesn't sleep. He stays up with a seemingly endless supply of beer and his thoughts.

His two worst enemies.

* * *

**Back to Ella's POV**

I see nothing. Almost nothing. Every once in a while, I can see like normal, but I can't control my actions. It's like my body is moving but I am not controlling it. I can only see certain things though, like normal things. Me visiting places. I never see quite enough though. Whenever I can't see what I'm doing, it's nothing but black. Like as if I am in a pitch-black cave except its endless and no one is here but me. This is like one of my worst nightmares, except it is really happening.

I'm scared.

* * *

I lift my head from its hanging position. I move my head back and forth. I wiggle my fingers. I can control my body again. It's my body. I smile and scoff in disbelief.

My happiness doesn't last for very long though.

I slowly open my eyes and look around the room I'm in. I am standing straight up, but my arms are tied. They are straight out, like a cross. My feet are tied together, right next to each other. I turn my head and trail my gaze around the room. It's large and dim, like a creepy basement in a horror movie. The walls are old cement, cracked and falling apart. There are small pillars connected on the ceiling, made of the same material as the walls.

I look to the side of me and see a large, old, wooden table. It is covered in a bunch of tools, some encrusted in blood, some clean and shiny. There are small scalpels, large knives, syringes, basically anything you would need for dissection or torture.

I don't see anyone else in the room at the moment, so if I am going to make an escape, it has to be now. I yank on all of the restraints but they aren't giving at all. I don't have any weapons on me, and I wouldn't be able to reach them anyway.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. I can't get out of here. I bang my head off the back of the pole I am tied against repeatedly while muttering, 'stupid' over and over again. Why does this have to happen to me? What I'd do to deserve this crap?

In the midst of my little breakdown, I hear a door open on the side of the room. I see a fairly large shadow move across the room, their footsteps large and clunky.

A bearded man walks out of the shadows, wearing a pleased look on his face. His is wearing a bunch of black, including a large black overcoat.

"Hello Ella," He starts in a thick English accent, "You are most likely wondering who I am, correct?"

"Yes." I spit back at him, rolling my eyes.

"Ooh, feisty. I like it. You must get that from your brothers. My name's Crowley. Now listen here, darling, and listen close," he speaks slowly, "I do not want to hurt you. I kind of actually like your brothers. But I am afraid that I need something from you before the angels get it. And that involves hurting you, since I don't really know the spell."

"What? I don't have anything, so I don't know what the hell you are talking about." I say in a confused tone. I don't know what he wants from me, and it is concerning.

"Oh but you do have something. You'll find out eventually," he says, turning away from me and grabbing a small scalpel from the large table, "But never mind that. Lets get to the fun, shall we." He puts on a huge smile before lifting my shirt slightly and cutting into my abdomen.

I scream in agony, feeling the blood drip down my stomach. I clench my fists and teeth, trying to suppress the pain.

Before I can recover from the first incision, he makes another, this time vertical, crossing over the last cut. I shout for help this time, even though I realize I am stranded, alone. More blood pours out of the wounds.

My head become more and more heavy with every incision he makes, and soon I just let I hang, unable to lift it at all. I stare at the cracked, dirt covered ground. Blood drips out of my mouth, almost in a steady flow. I cough involuntarily, only making the pain worsen. I see Crowley take a different tool and shove it into a different part of my body. He keeps switching it up, sometimes my arms, sometimes my legs, sometimes my stomach. I see pools of my blood on the floor, slowly soaking into my feet. Soon my vision blurs, and black fills the edges of my eyes. I try to blink it away, but it doesn't help.

"Dean…Sam…please…" I sputter before I loose all of my vision.


	9. Chapter 9

I jump out of unconsciousness, and immediately regret it as excruciating pain ripples through my body. I heard thuds and shouts coming from the outside of the door that Crowley walked in. I don't know how long I have been here, but it seems like years.

I keep going in and out of consciousness, liking it more when I'm asleep. Whenever I'm awake I can feel every cut, jab, and incision he makes. Even when he isn't touching me, every inch of my body throbs with unbearable pain.

The floor below me is still coated with my blood. I know that if I lose anymore I am going to be done for. I'm still surprised I'm alive every time that I wake up. I hang against this cross-structure, my body completely limp. My shirt is ripped all over the place, along with my jeans. I might as well not be wearing clothes at this point; they're all coated in my thick, sticky blood; shredded in too many places.

I hear another loud thud coming from outside the room. Crowley must be coming back. I try to blink to clear my vision, but it's no use. There's blood all over my face, and some of it got into my eye. I dry heave again, although I vomited everything I had eaten up long ago. Pain rivets up my chest, settling in my temples. It's as if two people are drilling giant nails into my brain.

"Sam…" I cough out in a hushed, raspy voice. I have been calling out their names since I got here, but it has gotten increasingly difficult. More blood drips out of my mouth. My vision goes again, but I am still conscious, almost. I can hear everything, but it is as if I am in a dream.

I hear the door bust open, as someone shouts my name. I wonder if I have done something wrong. Is someone angry with me? Grey and black blobs swirl around my eyes as I try to open them. I smile and laugh at my attempt, realizing how ridiculous I must look. I feel the pain in my chest from the laughter, but it seems very dull and silenced.

I hear another voice shout my name. It sounds like everyone is talking underwater. Its very muffled and funny sounding. I feel people messing around with the restraints on my arms. They are being very careful, like they are scared to hurt me or something. I smile again. I don't know why I am smiling, but I feel like all of a sudden I'm okay. I know deep down that I'm not, but I can't seem to access those feelings.

I feel large, warm arms wrap around my tattered body, resting me against his chest princess-style. He doesn't let my head hang, which is nice after dangling off of that cross for so long. I am right up against him, and I can hear his heart beating fast. His chest vibrates from his speech, although I can't make out what he's saying.

And suddenly all the noise cuts out. I can still feel his body carrying me, which he seems to be running now, but I can't hear a thing. Everything is dark.

I hear my heart. It's shallow, slowing. It's like the slowest anyone could knock on someones door. 'thump' pause 'thump' pause 'thump'

I'm dying.

* * *

The hospital is completely plastered in white. Ella's frail body lies in the bed near the middle of the room. She's been like this for 3 days since they found her.

"Dammit, Cas, what do you mean you can't fix her?" Dean shouts into his face. Dean is right in front of him, his breath landing on Cas's face. Castiel sighs and grits his teeth together. He shoves Dean across the room, making him land on his back.

"I have tried and tried, Dean," he starts, stepping closer to Dean on the ground, "I don't have all of my grace. I can only heal Sam a little at a time, so what makes you think I can possibly deal with that?" he gestures to Ella, "I healed her a little bit, but her injuries are to great for me."

"And we can't heal her completely unless we find an angel that actually likes us, and that isn't exactly likely." Sam chimes in from his chair in the corner of the tiny room.

"Exactly, Sam is right," Cas comfirms, "I am very sorry, all right Dean?" he finishes, holding out his hand to help Dean up off the ground. He grunts while getting up before playfully hitting Cas on the shoulder before retreating to the side of the room that Sam is on.

"I fixed most of her internal injuries over the past 3 days, so she should wake up soon." Castiel says, a little smirk on his face.

"Good. I am glad my little sis is gonna be okay." Dean says, sadly smirking Sam, and his little brother returning the same look.

* * *

I take in a gulp of air. Except I can actually breath clearly. No blood. I twitch my fingers, feeling around. I do the same with my head, now that it isn't ringing any longer. I open my eyes, blinking a couple times to clear everything up. I see Sam and Dean across the room, and they instantly jet over to me. There are large goofy smiles plastered to their faces.

I lift up my hand slowly and push the tip of Sam's nose. "Boop." I squeak out before giggling to myself. Sam shakes his head, as if he expected something epic and life changing to come out of my mouth. Dean grins at me before finally standing up. He leans up against the end of my bed, careful not to touch my legs. I shift my bed up, so I am in a half-sitting position.

Then it all comes rushing back into my head at once. The torture. The pain. The maniacal things Crowley did to me. It all hits me in this tsunami of feelings, and don't know how to deal with it all. The smile slowly fades from my face, and my eyes get locked into a deadpan stare. I don't usually show feelings to people, because I know how much it can change someone's views on me. But this one time, in front of my family, I release it all.

"He tortured me. He hurt me. He _damaged_ me, Dean." I say, my head staying in the same position, locked on Dean's chest.

"And I don't even know why. Why did he do that?" This time I shift my gaze over to Sam's face, his eyes watering up too. I sniffle before looking down at my hands, pinching the skin on the back of m left hand. I pinch it until I draw blood.

_Stop crying._

I sniffle and stifle it all down before returning my gaze back up to Dean's face. I wipe any tears off of my face before resting my hands gently in my lap.

"Okay, I am sure you have questions on what Crowley said. Shoot." I say, my tone sharp, "Oh, and I wanna know how I got better so quick. How long have I been out?"

Sam sits in a flipped around chair behind Dean, not saying anything, tears quietly streaming down his face. His lip trembles uncontrollably. He puts his head down onto his hands and rests for a little.

Dean snaps out of his gaze. "Oh, Castiel," he starts, looking over to the other side of the room, like someone is supposed to be there, "Well, he's a friend of ours. He's an angel. He healed your internal injuries, but you still can't use your legs. You got pretty banged up, kiddo."

I huff out and smirk at Dean, crossing my arms.

"An angel. What, with like wings?" I sarcastically ask.

"Actually, yes. You can only see them sometimes though." He replies, wearing his goofy smile again. I grin back.

"But yeah, what did Crowley say he wanted with you?" Dean asks, his smile fading from his face.

"He said that I would find out soon enough, but he needed to get something out of me before the angels did." I reply, scoffing.

Dean silently mouths _oh._

"What!?" a man in a large trench coat says, coming out of completely nowhere.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N just wanted to say that at the end it sounds like Sam and Ella are in love or something, but it really is just showing how much Sam cares about her. I mean, she just got tortured, so she's pretty screwed up.**

**Also thanks for reading and such, I really appreciate it and such :3**

* * *

I relax back into the bed, trying to distance myself from the strange man that just poofed into the room. I'm starting to get a slight headache from everything that is happening. Either that, or it's the torture talking. I rest my head of the pillow and close my eyes. I take a deep breath. I need to think for a bit. What I really need is time alone, but I honestly don't see that happening anything time soon. There's not time for doubts anymore. I saw, and felt, what Crowley did, and he was determined to get whatever it was from me. I'm assuming the man in the trenchcoat is the angel that Dean was talking about, so I have to ask him what he thinks.

I open my eyes and lift my head back up.

"You okay?" Dean asks, his eyes focused on me.

"Yeah," I sigh, "I'll be alright."

"Well I'm not sure if that is _entirely _correct, Ella." the trenchcoated man says, his voice coming out deeper than I expected.

I look back over to Dean and mouth '_Who's that?' _gesturing over to the angel-man.

"That's Castiel, Cas for short." He replies.

"Okay, _Castiel, _what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I state, crossing my arms across my chest.

He doesn't immediately respond, he only squints and huffs his chest in disgust, or relief, I can't tell. He walks over until he is standing at the end of my bed, next to Dean. He is pretty ordinary looking, just a man in a suit and trenchcoat. But there is something _off _about him, but I just can't put my finger on it. He's short and lanky, or at least he looks like that compared to Sam and Dean. He has dark brown, almost black hair, and blue eyes. His eyes look very tired though, as if he's dying for sleep but can't get any.

"Well, if the angels want you for something, it can't possibly be good." Cas says, looking up at the ceiling.

"I thought the angels were the good guys, right?" I ask. Dean scoffs and puts his head in his hands. Sam finally lifts his head up from the position it had been in for the past 5 minutes.

"Let's just say that both Heaven and Hell hate us, okay?" Sam announces, his voice shaky. Castiel shifts his eyes back to me, locking them onto the features of my face.

"Crowley cut up your body, and didn't even ask you any questions," he squints, "You don't know any important information, you've only been with the Winchesters with a month or so. Which means whatever he wanted is_ in _you." He finishes, his voice making everything more dramatic than it actually is.

Now my headache is throbbing in my temples.

"I need to sleep." I say, not moving my eyes from Castiel's face.

"Ella."

"Just leave." I state again, lying down and shifting my body away from everyone. I close my eyes and try to drown myself in my dreams.

I hear the door click shut a few seconds later.

* * *

I look up. I'm hanging from the cross in the dirty basement with Crowley again. I try to pull away from the restraints, but they won't give at all. I go into total freakout mode, screaming for my mom. I know she's dead, but I can't stop myself from screaming it in utter terror, as I fear for my life again. Crowley appears in front of me, right out of thin air, wearing a sadistic smile on his twisted face. He immediately plunges a knife into my stomach, ripping straight through my body, making a dull clank on the cross I'm tied against.

I wake up screaming, covered in a cold sweat. I instantly jet up into sitting position, feeling a dull ache rivet though my ribs. I groan and clutch my head in my hands, trying to steady heavy breathing. Darkness surrounds me, making every shadow appear as if it's going to hurt me.

I hear large, clunky running before my door flies open, slamming against the wall with a loud crack. I shriek and pull my sheets up to cover my face, before I hear a familiar voice.

"Hey, hey, it's just me. Just Sam." He says. I slowly rest my sheets on my legs before I start crying again.

I hate seeming like a weakling, but it's the only thing I can do right now. I try and try to stop myself like I did earlier today, but it just doesn't work like it did before. With it being so deathly quiet in this room, I sound pathetic being the only small noise in the room. I don't cry loud, it's a silent cry, like the when where you're so hurt that you just can't even grasp it enough to make a noise. You just hear slight sniffling coming from me.

I see the outline of Sam shut the door and move out of the door way, walking over to me. I scoot over slightly to give him a little bit of room. I sink in his direction when he sits down; his bodyweight almost double mine. I slowly sink into his chest, nuzzling deep into his shirt. He wraps one of his arms around my back.

I shout and scream into him, because I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling this weak and vulnerable. I'm 23, for god's sake. I continue to feel like this for what seems like hours, until Sam finally says something.

"I'm sorry."

I lift my head away from his chest, him releasing his grasp on my back. I keep my head hung over, because I am almost ashamed.

I am ashamed of feeling.

"You didn't do anything." I mumble under my breath, my voice coarse and shaky. Steady flows of tears still come out of my eyes.

Sam puts his hand under my chin and forces me to lift my head up. My eyes glide up his torso until I am looking straight into his eyes. The dim-moonlight illuminating the room casts shadows on the high points of his face.

"I know. I'm still sorry. No one deserves this much shit." He says, his voice very soft, relaxing. He lets his hand fall back into his lap.

"Well," I pause, "You guys are the one's that kidnapped me." That statement forces a smile onto my face, which is a nice relief.

Sam giggles and pushed a tuft of hair behind his ear. I pull my hands up to my chest, trying to stop them from shaking like a Chihuahua.

"Why are you here? It's the middle of the night, shouldn't you be at the bunker with Dean or something?" I question. It's unusual for anyone other than a Doctor to visit a hospital at this time of night.

"Well, two things, actually," he chuckles, "One, we're not close to the bunker, maybe three to four states away. And two: I know how living hell is, and I figured you might have nightmares after what happened. And I'm not going to leave you here to cry alone." He attempts a weak smile.

Sometimes I wonder how much Sam cares. Not about me specifically, but everything. Life, in general. He's definitely been through a lot, but his heart has so much compassion in it that I just have to step back and think.

I lean back into him, resting my head on his chest. He pulls me into him, wrapping his enormous arms around my tiny body. He runs his hand through my short hair, and I can hear him faintly whisper,

_"It's okay."_

I fall asleep still snuggled against Sam's flannel shirt, listening to the rhythm of his breaths.


	11. Chapter 11

It's been 6 months since I was tortured.

I've learned a lot since then. Sam and Dean have taught me the in's and out's of being a hunter, and I caught on pretty quickly. After my mother died, I was adopted into a family. They were great parents at times, but they were very cautious. They made sure I always knew how to protect myself, knew how to hurt someone if I have too, etc.

Dean was surprised at how I learned so fast. Now I'm a regular hunter. Sam, Dean, and I, are still searching for answers of why Crowley almost killed me, and what the angels want. We have captured countless monsters and we still haven't found anything.

I haven't had a nightmare in 4 months. It was quite easy to dispel the thoughts once I got control over them. Dean actually helped me a lot; although I am not sure his method of dealing with things is any better than mine. I basically just ignore my feelings at this point, at least the sensitive ones. Sam doesn't seem to like it that much, but he doesn't want to argue with Dean. Not now, anyways.

There is something that is worrying to all of us though; there are lines appearing on my skin. Everywhere. They look like tattoos, thin black lines circling my body. Ever since Cas healed me, they started appearing. They started on my torso, very faint at first. Now they are pitch black, and are slowly progressing onto my legs. They look like vines of dark flowers, but they have a certain precision to them. Like someone etched them there by hand. Every time I wake up, there are more faint lines waiting.

Sam, Dean, and I are all severely worried. We have tested every theory we could think of. Djin, Rugaru, Werewolf. Any monster you can think of, I have been tested for. We are completely stumped. Even Castiel doesn't know, and if a 100 million year old celestial being doesn't know, I am hopeless at this point.

And that leads us to now.

We are all just resting up at a cheap motel after a boring vampire hunt. A local vamp kept killing the kids in the town, and we decided to check it out. We were hoping to find an angel or some Intel on my condition, but it wasn't anything major, and we took it out easy. It was a good feeling saving a hell of a lot of kids, too.

I'm sitting on my bed on one side of the room, while Sam and Dean sit at the table near the bathroom. I'm in shorts, exposing the upper parts of my legs. You can see the details of the lines starting on my thighs. I can see Sam glancing at them out of the corner of my eyes, and I'm tempted to change so I can stop getting strange looks from them.

I clear my throat loud enough for Sam to get the hint. He breaks his stare and continues clicking away on his laptop.

I sit with my legs crossed, all my knives and guns lain out in front of me on the bed. I have quite a collection now, ranging from silver to steel. I pick up my favorite silver gun, which I usually have in my thigh holster, and look over the engravings. Dean has one like this, only slightly larger and older. I pick up a rag and start polishing it.

"So, you guys find anything?" I ask. Both Sam and Dean have been on their laptops since we got back; although I am Dean has been looking at porn for the majority of it.

"No, not really." Sam replies.

I take a deep labored sigh and set my gun down, laying it in line with the rest of them. I un-twist my legs and stand up, walking over to the table. I rest my hands flat on the area not occupied with laptops.

"If we don't figure this out soon, my whole body is going to be covered in these," I say, lifting my tank top up to reveal the lines on my stomach, where they are most prominent. I let it fall back down after a few seconds.

"And I don't really know about you guys, but I am pretty concerned." I finish, walking aimlessly around the room.

"Ella, there isn't exactly any data on this," Dean says, "Ya know, pretty girls getting covered in mysterious black lines after getting tortured by the King of Hell." He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. I swing my body back around so I'm facing Dean.

"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" I laugh, resting my left hand on my hip and right on the back of my head. I stand there for a few seconds with a ridiculous 'blue steel' look on my face before Sam and Dean burst into laughter. I let my hands fall and allow myself to genuinely laugh, which doesn't happen too often with us.

It feels nice to know I can make my brothers cheerful, because things are just getting more and more somber around here. The more we don't know, the more we are clueless about everything, is all the more risk I am at. My life could be slowly ending because of this and I wouldn't even know. It's extremely unsettling.

Once we all recover from our stupid laughter, we get back to business. I swing myself back onto my bed, shoving my weapons neatly back into my bag. I rustle around until I find my laptop and get to research.

I can understand what Dean meant by no information. Even on hunter websites they have nothing.

Once again, not a good sign.

I sit there clicking away until I realize I have managed to stay up till 1 a.m. All the lamps but one in the room has been shut off. I look over to the bed beside mine and see Sam sleeping. His laptop is still resting on his legs, but his hands have fallen to the sides. The screen is black, the computer having gone off hours ago.

I look up to Dean. To my dismay, he is still awake, with multiple beer bottles surrounding him. He has moved though, now resting on his bed on the opposite side of the room. He clears his throat, almost choking on his spit. He's hammered.

I sigh at both of them, and slowly set my laptop down. I grumble as I get up, my body aching from sitting in one position for too long. I walk over to Sam's bed first, since he is closest to me.

"Alright." I whisper as I put his laptop on the nightstand. I try to grab the covers from underneath him, but I can't move his enormous weight. I don't think anyone can, really. I give up and just pull the covers already unraveled and pull them up to his chin. He lets out a loud snore as I am walking over to Dean.

"'Night sleeping beauty." I giggle.

I return my glance to Dean. He is sitting there, completely content with himself and everything around him. He's gotten drunk before, but this is the first time I haven't gotten drunk with him. Every once in a while we need to let off a little bit of steam, so we go to a bar and drink ourselves into oblivion. Sam is usually the designated driver.

"Come on, Dean," I say as I collect the various alcohol bottles surrounding his body, "Boy, you're a mess, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replies, his voice faltering, words slurring together. He reaches over and pokes my leg, right where you can start to see the black lines from my torso. He squints at them, as if he is confused about where they came from.

"Yeah Dean, they're there. Now lets get you in bed, silly." I say. I reach over and grab the last bottle and set it with the rest of them on the table next to us. I force Dean onto his feet. He stands there, swaying back and forth until I finish getting the sheets from under the mattress. Typical hotel room set up.

As soon as I'm finished, I guide wobbly Dean back into it, him landing rather ungracefully on his butt. I pull his sheets up so he can grab them, hoping he has the sense to cover up if he gets too cold.

"Okay, now I'm going to go to bed now." I slowly say to him, making sure he gets it all in his brain before I retreat to my bed. He groggily nods his head. I smirk at him and turn to walk to my bed.

"Hey, El?" I hear Dean say from behind me. I turn around.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I love you, remember that." He says, a little smile starting to show on his face, although it has a hint of sadness.

"I love you too, Dean," I smile, "Now go to bed, sleepy."

I try turning to walk again but Dean starts talking.

"Do you think Sammy knows that?"

That statement makes me stop dead in my tracks. I return my glance to Dean.

"What makes you say that?" I warily say, hoping not to upset him more than he already is.

"I don't think he loves me anymore." He retorts. His tone of voice is heart shattering.

"Of course he loves you, he's your brother," I start, "You're drunk Dean, just go to bed."

This time I make it all the way over to my bed. Nothing but silence comes from Dean. I get rested up in my bed and I notice Dean is silently crying. His lower lip is shaking, and his face is wet. I know if he weren't drunk, he wouldn't want me to say anything. So I'm not going to.

"Can you shut off the light please?" I say, my voice coming out surprisingly quiet.

He clicks off the light and I don't hear another sound out of Dean.


	12. Chapter 12

I wake to multiple thumps coming from the table across the room from me. I cautiously open my eyes, only to see Castiel standing next to Dean's bed, which is now empty, spinning various beer bottles around like tops. He seems a bit…off.

"What the hell, Cas?" I almost shout, sitting up in my bed. I scratch my eyes and slightly stretch before stumbling out of bed. I've never been much of a morning person, and today I am slightly sore from our hunt yesterday. I sluggishly walk until I am standing a couple feet away from Cas. As soon as he sees me standing there, he straightens his posture, or tries too at least.

"I may have a way to find out what is happening to you." Says Cas. I wake up a little at the sound of that, ecstatic to maybe finally know what's going on. I notice Castiel is swaying, as if his head just isn't quite attached to his body.

It's seconds before he collapses almost on top of me, landing with a large thud on the wooden floor. I stand there, just staring at him lying facedown before I realize I should probably get Sam and Dean. Like I said, not much of a morning person. It's too early for this type of crap.

"Dean…Sam!" I shout groggily, hoping to wake Sam up. I don't know where Dean is right now, but I know for a fact I can't lift Cas up on the bed without someone's help.

Sam jolts awake, letting out a loud snore. He flicks all of the hair away from his face before saying, "Ella! What's wrong?"

I gesture to the angel lying facedown on the floor, my brain still not ready for the day. I shrug a little.

Sam rustles the sheets out of the way and we both get Cas up onto my bed. Sam slumps back onto his bed, letting out an exasperated sigh, while I get up to make some coffee for us.

The coffee is almost ready whenever I hear various loud noises coming from our bathroom. A few seconds later Dean comes stumbling out in nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. He is dripping wet, and he is holding his toothbrush upside down in his right hand, his left hand holding the towel.

"I heard Ella shout is…are you alright?" he stumbles over his own tongue. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hair still has large clumps of shampoo through it. I can't help but smile at him, because he looks unbelievably ridiculous.

"What?!" says Dean loudly. I look over to Sam and giggle under my breath. He does the same back.

"Did you fall asleep in the shower?" I say. Dean looks at himself, scanning his eyes up his body. I see him mouth 'oh' before shifting his glance to the passed out Cas lying on my bed. I almost forgot about him for a second.

"What happened?" Dean asks, worry replacing his tone. I'm still smiling, because I just can't stop. Every little thing is funny in the morning.

"Get dressed, jackass, then we'll talk." I retort, chuckling. Dean rolls his eyes before returning to the bathroom, his shoulders slumping. I hear a huff of disgust from him after the door shuts.

I pour the coffee into three cups for Sam, Dean, and I. I walk over to Sam's bed, handing him his cup before grabbing a blanket from the edge of my bed. I wrap it around myself, like a cape. It keeps me warm, and it's effective at making me feel like a little kid again. Everyone needs that sometimes, especially our fucked up family.

I grab my cup and sit on the edge of Sam's bed, right next to his outstretched legs. He doesn't look very tall from where he's sitting right now, which makes him seem a lot more cuddly than intimidating. It's nice.

A few minutes of sitting in silence and Dean finally returns from the bathroom, clean and dressed. He slumps down on the edge of my bed, right next to Cas, who still hasn't woken up. I hand him his coffee from the nightstand, and I explain everything that happened since I woke up.

"So he just said that, and then passed out?" Sam asks. I nod my head, finally awake due to the coffee. I slowly set down my cup before getting up and walking over to Castiel. I look him over, tracing my hands along his shirt. Eventually I find a small stab wound near his stomach. White light is faintly gleaming from the small incision. I glide my eyes up to his face again. He does look pretty beat up, now that I think about it. There is blood on his bottom lip, and his jawline is slightly swollen.

"He must've been in a fight before he came here or something. Something hit him with an angel blade though, so I'm guessing that's what finished him," I state, returning to my seat on the edge of Sam's bed, "He should wake up soon, his body just needs to recover a bit."

"I guess it's good that he found out something, right?" Dean says, shrugging his shoulders. Sam and I simultaneously shrug back at him. The shrugging has become a form of communication between us. Sometimes our days are so bad that we just grunt and shrug at each other. Luckily, lately we've been out of that habit.

I hear grunting and shuffling coming from my bed. Castiel rustles around on top of my sheets until he props himself up on the headboard. He winces as he clutches the wound on his abdomen. He grunts as he finally rests himself down.

"Hello, Dean. Hello, Ella. Hello, Sam." Cas says in his grumbly voice. I do a little wave back at him. I see Sam and Dean trying not to laugh at the way he said hello to us all. Sometimes you just never get quite used to how awkward Castiel can be at times. I glance back at Cas and see him squinting at the boys. I smile.

"So Cas, did the God squad catch up to you finally?" Dean asks, taking a large gulp of his coffee. He grimaces after he swallows.

"Umm, well yes, that is one way to put it. Even though I did get stabbed, I think I know a way we can figure out what those black lines mean," Cas replies, locking his cold eyes on me, "Although, I am not sure Sam and Dean will approve of it."

I look down at my legs. The thin, black lines are still slowly progressing down my thighs and up my torso. If we don't do something, anything, I am going to become the monster that we hunt.

And I refuse to let that happen.

I return my gaze back to the angel. I nod at him, allowing him to spew whatever horrendous plan he has at us. I'm sure I've heard worse.

"Crowley. He's the one that did this, or so we believe. Every good and bad angel I have encountered has said it's all him. So…" Cas finishes, drifting off. We all know what he's implying.

"You need to use me as bait." I continue Castiel's thought. I saw it coming. If we use me as bait, we find out what's wrong with me. Crowley has to be the only one that knows, and frankly, he's really our only hope at this point. I can handle it.

"No." I hear Sam say from beside me. I flick my head over in his direction. He gives me his puppy eyes. I don't think he is meaning to, I think his face is just like that all the time now. I nod at him and mouth 'I'm okay.' He's always worrying about me, ever since that night in the hospital. But that was 6 months ago. I have changed in so many ways since then, and I think he realizes that finally.

"Alright. If Ella is up for it, I'll help." Sam confirms.

"Same here, I guess." Dean says.

Ever since I have got here, Dean has explained a lot of things to me. Sam has too. All the soul selling, lying, and fighting that they have had. Sam says that they have stopped most of that now. It's really a relief, because if they hadn't of given that up one of us would probably be dead right now.

That being said, they are still really overprotective of me. I'm the 'little' sister, so they feel the need to protect me.

"Alright, Ella. You're going to need to find a dress and some make-up." Cas says, his tone dead serious. I laugh until I realize he's being completely serious.

"Why the fuck do I need that?" I exclaim.

I feel like today is going to be a very long day.


	13. Update! (AN)

**Hey guys this is just an update i wont be writing for a little while because i have exams and gymnastics and stuff so dont expect anything for about 2 weeks or so. I am very sorry, but life happens. :3**


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